Apprehension
by colakirk
Summary: Neal has to be dragged from a demolition zone before it's too late. Warning: Contains spanking. Don't like, Don't read.
1. Chapter 1

**Warning:** This story contains spanking. If this is not your thing, please leave. Those who choose to stay on, despite this warning and hurl insults without the courtesy of leaving contact details, will find themselves sent to the naughty corner and may or may not, depending on his mood at the time, be pulled over Peter's knee for a bare bottom spanking!

**Author's Note:** This story alludes to my other fic, 'Peter's Patient' but has been written as a standalone. I wrote this fic after I considered how much I would love, in this up-and-coming season, to see an episode where Peter and Jones have to pull an unconscious Neal out of a dangerous situation, one that their young partner has gone and put himself into. I also wanted to include Dr Andy, because he is the doctor I always dream of, but never end up having at a consultation. :)

**CHAPTER 1**

_ap·pre·hen·sion ( p r -h n sh n). n. 1. Fearful or uneasy anticipation of the future; dread._

# # #

"Dammit, Neal!" FBI Agent Peter Burke pushed angrily up from this chair, slammed down his laptop lid, grabbed his gun holster, phone, car keys and jacket and marched out of the office. "Dammit, Neal!" he repeated as he all but jogged through the bullpen, signalling for his two junior agents to follow with haste. "Dammit, Neal!" Agent Burke cursed while stabbing at the elevator buttons, "You never listen!"

# # #

Three special agents, decked out in bullet proof vests and wielding their firearms, sprung out of the vehicle, barely waiting for it to stop and ducked down behind the first concrete pillar they came to. According to the tracking data Agent Berrigan had looked up while her boss drove at speed through the city's midday traffic, their young, insubordinate CI, was located somewhere in the decrepit building before them…a building that was currently in the midst of being torn to the ground.

Agent Burke cupped one ear with his free hand while trying to make out what Berrigan was shouting.

"You want me to go and shut the crane down, Boss?"

Agent Burke looked up several stories towards the demolition ball swinging towards the concrete carcase that was left of this long abandoned building and nodded. His CI was somewhere, right in the middle this disaster zone and if there were to be any chance of a rescue, they couldn't afford the luxury of waiting for backup. It was unlikely either Nathanial Navarro or any of his henchmen were stupid enough to still be in the building, or anywhere in the vicinity for that matter, but still, "Watch your back, Dianna," he shouted after the young female.

# # #

'Dammit, Neal!' The ex-con cursed himself under his breath as he pounded his shoulder into the solid wooden side panels of what appeared to be an older style, self-standing closet. Of course, he couldn't be sure it was a closet due to being enveloped in complete darkness, but the unpleasant aroma of mouldy discarded clothing, pooled at his feet led him to his conclusion soon after he'd been unceremoniously dumped into the small space by one of Navarro's man-mountains. He shouldered the side panel once more, and once more, it was to no avail. Unfortunately he had already exhausted the most obvious solutions. He'd given up trying to break out of the closet door after figuring something heavy, large and completely unmovable had been dragged across the front and the back panel was reinforced with two-inch thick cross studs – built to withstand the test of time, and one lone ex-con, desperate to escape from his latest misadventure.

Not that Peter would call it that. Peter would never use a phrase so flippant as 'a simple misadventure.' No, Peter only ever used phrases like 'completely insubordinate,' 'due process,' 'impulsive, reckless behaviour' and 'juvenile delinquent.' Somehow Peter would find a way to make it sound like his young partner had gone way outside the law to circumvent the correct legal channels in order to fast-track a dubious-at-best conviction. But that's not what had happened at all. His behaviour had not been impulsive and certainly not reckless and if everything had gone according to plan, he'd be back at the Bureau right now, regaling the suitably impressed agents with the intel he'd so brilliantly gathered during his lunch break. Of course, he hadn't left the office with the intention of going on a fact-finding mission, he'd simply left to have lunch with Mozzie. And, he hadn't expected Mozzie to be so quick with discovering, through his secret sources, that Nathaniel Navarro was taking delivery of a substantial quantity of blackmarket laptops and smart phones this very afternoon, out in the alley behind his Pizzeria. And, he hadn't intended on swinging by the Pizzeria on his way back to the Bureau but he practically had to walk right past it. And even though Peter had said he wasn't, under any circumstances, to go anywhere near Navarro's Pizzeria, he never said anything about not going, under any circumstances, for a stroll down the alley behind the Pizzeria on his way back to the Bureau.

But Peter wouldn't see it that way. He'd no doubt rant and rave about his insubordinate partner not following orders and once again his impulsive behaviour putting himself in a seriously reckless situation…and then he'd go about demonstrating just how thoroughly displeased he was with his partner's poor choices. Neal cringed at the mere thought, before accepting it may be something he would never have to worry about if he didn't get out of the closet in the next couple of minutes. The repeated thundering explosions of what sounded and felt like a cross between an earthquake and heavy artillery fire, was becoming disturbingly close.

He rammed his shoulder into the side of the closet with all his might and was immensely pleased, if not slightly alarmed, when he felt the floor of the closet lift slightly off the ground. So he rammed the side again, and this time the momentum was enough to tip the closet over. Neal braced himself for the impact of the closet hitting the floor, but it never came. Instead, the closet continued to tumble forward and Neal found his whole body and a bunch of dirty laundry, piling up against what was once the top of the cupboard, and then, as the horrifying realisation hit the young con that the closet was not only in some kind of free fall, but was picking up speed as it hurtled towards the building rubble below, he cursed himself once more. 'Dammit, Neal! If you make it out of this alive, Peter is going to kill you!'

# # #

Peter proceeded with caution as he led the way in through what was once the entrance corridor to the rapidly deteriorating building. The seasoned agent knew his actions were breaking every workplace health and safety regulation he'd ever been trained to commit to, but according to the data on his phone, his young, completely reckless, totally impulsive, in serious trouble CI, was right in the thick of all this chaos. Peter calculated he had very little time to track Neal down and haul his ass to safety before it was too late. He had ordered Jones to remain outside and call for backup but the junior agent had politely informed the older man in no uncertain terms that he was just wasting valuable time by insisting on something that was never going to happen. Peter holstered his firearm as he stepped over one of the concrete pillars lying on its side and looked up at the crane through the gaps in the flooring. "I'm pretty sure anyone in their right mind has long since vacated the premises," Peter shouted over the top of the horrific thuds, clangs and crashes.

"Explains why Caffrey's here," Jones yelled back. "Must have completely lost the plot if he thought taking on Navarro on his own was a good idea."

Peter shook his head in frustration. Jones was correct. Neal should have known better…Strike that…the kid _did_ know better because he'd specifically ordered his young partner _not_ to go anywhere near Navarro's Pizzeria under _any_ circumstances. Nathaniel Navarro was a dangerous man, even more so than his younger sibling, Christopher. Peter was well aware Nathaniel Navarro personally blamed him for sending his baby brother to prison. Navarro had insinuated outside the courtroom after the trial, that should the opportunity ever arise, he'd be more than happy to return the favour. No doubt said favour had nothing to do with courtrooms or justice but more like something along the lines of snatching his CI off the streets and tying him up in a building that was being pulled to the ground.

Peter jumped back as a load of rubble landed near his feet. "Dammit, Neal!" He cursed out loud for all the good it did. "You couldn't have listened to me just this once?"

"Peter, look out!" Jones shouted has he reached forward and pulled his boss backwards to the relative safety of an overhanging beam, not a moment too soon. A jumbled mess of bricks, dirt, old clothing, concrete, wood and…and their missing CI, masquerading as a rag doll, came crashing down right where they'd been standing seconds before.

"NEAL!" both Peter and Jones shouted simultaneously as they tore over the rubble to their friend, ignoring the flying concrete pieces still making their way down from the floor above. As they approached, Peter could tell the young man was either unconscious or…

"Neal!" Peter grabbed the kid's shoulder and gently shook as Jones cleared the fallen debris off the lower half of his body. There was blood, a lot of blood. It was through Neal's hair, all over his shirt, streaming down his face. Peter didn't know which area to attend to first so instead, he slapped him softly on his cheek. "Neal, can you hear me, buddy?"

"Peter," Jones pointed upwards. "That whole level is coming down any minute. We have to get him out of here."

Peter looked up and concurred, "Grab his legs."

Together, the two agents lifted their young charge up and over the obstacles. Peter was struggling and the progress was slow, too slow. The building was all but imploding in around them. Peter grunted as he took a fistful of shirt in both hands to prevent his load from slipping to the ground. For someone who, for all intents and purposes appeared to be skin and bones, the kid was like a dead weight in Peter's arms. Jones soon noticed his boss straining so he dropped the legs and came around and grabbed Neal under his right arm. Grateful, Peter readjusted his hold and took a firm grip under the left. In the new positions, the two agents dragged their unconscious CI, the final sixty feet out of the building and into the open. As soon as they were in the relative safety of the pavement, Jones took out his cell and called for the paramedics. Peter took a couple of deep breaths and knelt down beside his young partner. They'd saved him from being buried below the building rubble…Peter reached down and tapped the kid on his cheek once more…but had they saved him in time?


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing he became aware of was the smell. The air was sterile, chilled and most unwelcoming. The offensive smells of antiseptic and disinfectant assaulted his nostrils on their way to awaken the sensory compartments in his brain.

Next he registered noise. Sound by sound his brain began to tune in - to the incessant beeping near his ear, to the clattering of metal on metal, to the soft voices – a voice he had heard many times before. And, another voice, less familiar, a voice he thought he should know. But it was too cold to recall a name for these voices. Much too cold.

The air was cold. His bones were cold. His skin was cold. He tried to reach for something warm but it was too much effort. He opened his eyes. Well, he tried to open his eyes, but that was too much effort also. And then he wasn't in the cold sterile room anymore. He was being shoved into an old wardrobe by one of Navarro's men. He wasn't cold in there. It was hot and cramped and…and much too frightening in the wardrobe.

# # #

It was as though his eyelids had been caked in concrete rendering. He tried to force them open but it was an impossible task. Feeling completely drained from his failed attempt, he was about to concede defeat when a small slither of light broke through. He couldn't make out anything out, but he sensed movement.

_"Hey Sweetie."_

He felt something touch his forehead. His vision was blurred and fighting against the impossible brightness, but whatever it was that had come to rest against his cheek, it was soothing, gentle...and warm. Under the touch, he felt himself lulled into a deep relaxing state and before he knew it, he was sitting in the Burke's living room, sharing a red wine and some of Elizabeth's delectable vol au vents.

# # #

When he opened his eyes again, things were a little less hazy and he could easily make out the familiar motherly features of his landlady, June.

"Why hello, sleepy," she crooned while sweeping an errant tuft of hair away from his eyes.

Neal opened his mouth to reply but his lips were stuck together. He ran his tongue along the inside but found there was very little lubrication properties left and it didn't feel too unlike the feeling one might get if one tried rubbing sandpaper along a gravel road. His mouth was dry, parched and thirsty for some liquid. Any liquid would do…as long as it was cool, and wet.

"Would you like some water, dear?" June asked as she lifted a cup with a bendy straw up to the young man's mouth.

Neal nodded and leaned appreciatively towards the offering. He pressed his lips against the straw until he wedged its way inside.

June held the cup while Neal sucked and until she figured he'd had enough. She put the cup down and tended once more to her young man, "How are you feeling, Neal? Are you in any pain?"

For a moment Neal ponded the question. Should he? Should he be in any pain? He wasn't aware of any pain. But then again…he looked around the room with his eyes…he was in a hospital, so maybe he was in pain and he just didn't realise it. Eventually he looked back at June and shook his head.

"That's good to hear, dear. You gave us all such a fright."

_Sorry,_ Neal formed the word in his brain but it never left his mouth. Feeling somewhat guilty, and not really knowing why, he broke eye contact with the elderly woman and looked somewhere else. Unfortunately, that somewhere else happened to be his left arm and the intravenous drip tube running from his arm to the liquid bag suspended above his bed. His eyes widened and his mouth opened, but still no words so he reached over with his right arm towards the bandage that was securing the needle in his arm, in place.

"Neal," June reached out also and trapped the young man's hand against the bed. "Don't you even think about touching that," she admonished in her no-nonsense tone. "You're in enough trouble already."

Neal looked back at his landlady. He was in trouble? He couldn't remember doing anything in recent times to cross June. He always tried to do the right thing by the sweet old woman - she deserved nothing less. Besides, on the rare occasion he had done something against her wishes, she had treated him like a naughty grandson and put him in his place quick smart. No, Neal searched his memories and couldn't find anything that placed him in June's bad books, but then again, his brain was so tired and all this chit chat with her was such an effort. He closed his eyes, just for a moment…_You're in enough trouble already…_while trying to figure out what the elderly woman had meant. When he opened his eyes again, he wasn't looking up into the soft, loving features of an old woman, but the strained, concerned eyes an FBI agent. Peter. Jones was standing behind him yelling something into his phone. Neal wished he was back in the soft hospital bed, chatting with June. It had been so much quieter back there…Peter reached out and slapped him on the cheek…_and less painful!_ 'Neal, can you hear me, buddy?'

_Yes, of course I can hear you, Peter._

'Neal,' Peter pressed his lips together and scowled some more before grounding out, 'You're in so much trouble, young man. When we get you out of here, you and I are going to have a very serious discussion. This dangerous, impulsive act of recklessness has just earned you a date with my strap.'

Neal cringed. Maybe from the pain…maybe from the pain that was to come. He really did wish he were back in that soft hospital bed chatting with June.

# # #

"Well Mr Caffrey…" the young nurse examined the thermometer she'd just removed from her patient's mouth…"looks like you've finally shaken that fever." She collected her belongings before asking with a caring smile, "Can I get you anything? A cold drink? Juice? Ice-cream?"

"Ice cream would be great," Neal smiled back.

"Sure. I'll just write these vitals up for Dr Bryant and I'll be back."

"Thank you."

"Ya know…" The nurse moved away to reveal a short, balding man, who had seemingly materialized out of nowhere… "There are easier ways to get a beautiful woman to bring you ice-cream, than jumping off the second storey and landing in a pile of rocks."

"I didn't jump. I fell."

"Potatoes Potartoes."

"Whatcha doin here, Moz? I've already had a lecture today from Elizabeth and June came in and gave me a piece of her mind yesterday," Neal stated defensively as he climbed off the bed and walked over to stare out the window. "Is this some kind of tag team?"

"I don't know. Is it?"

Neal sighed, accepting he didn't have the energy to compete with Mozzie in a battle of mind games. "You want a choc-chip muffin? June's cook baked them especially."

Mozzie sniffed around the assortment of cards and containers on the bedside table till he found what he was looking for. "Mmmm, don't mind if I do."

"Anything new you want to share?"

"Fwwunwy oo fwwould awwk. Wouw-"

"Moz!" Neal directed a cut it out gesture at his friend.

Mozzie simply shrugged and washed down the remaining muffin with the water he'd also acquired off the beside table. "These muffins are addictive."

"Yeah," Neal shrugged. "Take the rest if you want. I'm not that hungry."

"Hardly a revelation with the way Nurse Nightingale has been fattening you up on ice-cream?"

Neal didn't bother glorifying the comment with a response. Instead, he flopped down into the visitor's chair and rested his elbows on his knees.

Moz came around and perched on the end of the bed. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah," Neal reached up to the short plastic bandage strip just behind the hairline. "I'll be doing much better once they release me from here and…"

"And your hair grows back?" Mozzie indicated the small patch of hairless scalp, not more than an inch long, that had been trimmed when they'd stitched up the laceration on Neal's head. Most of it was still covered by a sterile patch.

"Yeah. You'd think they wouldn't have been a little more discerning with the hair cut they gave me."

"Most inconsiderate," Mozzie offered unsympathetically and then the two men fell into an uneasy silence.

After he'd stared at the bed covers long enough, Mozzie asked, "So Mrs Suit came in this morning?"

"Yeah. She brought me in a slice of apple pie if you want to take that with you also."

"Thank you anyway, but I'm allergic to cooking apples."

"Of course you are," Neal deadpanned.

"Mrs Suit came alone or did she bring back up?"

"Elizabeth doesn't need back up - you of all people should know that."

"The Suit too busy taking the underbelly of this fine city off our streets?"

"Something like that."

"Probably just as well."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"If you'd been even half conscious when they first brought you in here, you'd know exactly what I mean."

Neal moaned inwardly. It seemed he knew exactly what his friend was talking about and being in denial wasn't going to help him any in the long run. He rubbed his hand subconsciously over the bandage on his head. Maybe they'd have to keep him under observation for a few more days? At least until Peter's infuriation at this latest incident fizzled out. Neal moaned some more. What was the chance he could talk the doctor into letting him stay...at least until the end of his sentence!

# # #

"So, Neal," Doctor Andrew Bryant tossed the medical file back onto the meds trolley and smiled with satisfaction at the young con. "Seems like you're good to go."

"Go where?" Neal feigned ignorance.

"Good to go home, buddy," Andy slapped Neal's knee on the way past to the door. "I'll give Peter a buzz and tell him to come and collect you."

"Wait!" Neal called after him, somewhat desperately. "N-no need. Peter's busy at work. I can make my own way home."

Andy stopped in the doorway and turned back. "No can do, Neal. Firstly, I'm only releasing you subject to someone being able to keep tabs on you over the next couple of days - you've taken quite a nasty bump to your head and you need to have regular concussion checks for at least the next two ni-"

"I can arrange-"

"And..." the doctor held up his hand and cut Neal off... "Pete made me promise to call him..." Neal visibly deflated... "the moment you were released."

"Aaahh..." Neal tried to think fast but his brain still hurt. He shut his eyes to help with the thinking process.

Andy stepped back into the room, and asked with concern, "Are you still in a lot of pain?"

_Not yet!_ "Ah…yeah," Neal's eyes flashed open upon seeing a lifeline. He reached up to the bandage covering his stiches. "Hurts a fair bit across here still, and…ah," he pulled up the right shirt sleeve and ran his fingers over the yellow greenish bruise coating the soft white skin of his upper arm, "it's very tender here, and…" he rubbed the side of his temple, "I have an awful ache in my head…" _Is that enough?_ The young con trailed off.

Andy studied his patient for a moment, before working out quickly what was going on. He concealed his amusement, then made a point of consulting the chart he'd tossed on the tray. "Okay, if that's the case, let's see…" he ran his finger down the folder. "You're not due for more Tylenol for another two hours and in any case, if you're experiencing the pain you've just describe, I'm going to prescribe something a bit stronger."

_Good_, Neal nodded with satisfaction. He was going to need some serious pain relief after Peter got his hands on him and the over-the-counter stuff just wasn't going to cut it. "Sounds good, thank you, Doctor. You may need to write a repeat on the script, you know, just in case."

"No," Andy scribbled something on the folder while shaking his head. "You don't need a script for this. I'll give it to you now, that way we can see if it helps, and if not, we can try something else."

"Okay," Neal tried not to let the disappointment show, after all, one was better than none.

Andy reached across and patted Neal's knee. "Okay kiddo, just lie back down on the bed and roll over onto your side. This won't take a minute."

"W-what won't take a m-minute?" Neal stammered, realisation hitting him like a slap in the face that the two of them were clearly not on the same page.

Andy played dumb as he went about tinkering with items on the meds trolley. "Your shot."

"I don't need a shot! No. What shot?" Neal gasped.

"The shot I'm going to give you to help with that ache in your head and that tender arm…and the soreness around your stitches." Andy picked up a syringe in its sterile packaging and made out like he was about to tear it open.

"Wait!" Neal leapt off his bed and made two stop signs with his hands. "S-surely that's totally unnecessary."

"It is necessary, Neal. If you're in all that pain, obviously the regular pain killers aren't working and I need to give you something stronger."

"But that's…" _not what I had in mind!_ "You know, on second thoughts, it really has improved a lot," Neal flexed his shoulder showing it didn't hurt, too much, to do so, "and it's really not that bad, Doctor Bryant."

"What about around your stitches?"

"Yeah, well, it's still a little tender but compared to what it felt like yesterday, I can hardly notice it."

"Well, that's good to hear, Neal. It's a pity your headache is so severe, but hopefully this shot," Andy looked through the small selection of bottles laid out on the metal table till he found what he was looking for, "should take that away in no time."

Neal took a step back, till his butt was pressed against the bed, "Take it away? Hey, I don't think it's there at all now. I…" he ran his fingers over his temple once again, "Yeah, I can barely feel it at all."

"You sure? Headaches don't normally subside that quickly."

"Yeah, no, it wasn't that quick, but I guess its been improving ever since that last lot of tablets the nurse brought around a couple of hours ago. Did you catch her name? She was the spitting image of Katy Perry."

Andy played along with the blatant redirect, "Thought maybe it might be her twin sister?"

"If not Katy herself. Maybe she's finally had enough of the life in the spotlight, endless parties, mega wealth…"

"Yeah," Andy deadpanned, "I can see why someone would want to throw in the towel on that appalling existence, but nursing? It's a bit of a tough gig."

Neal nodded in agreement. "Yeah, long shifts, challenging work environments-"

"Difficult patients." Andy directed a knowing look at the young man.

Neal bit his bottom lip and turned away. _Guilty as charged._

"So," Andy put the syringe and bottle back down on the tray and pushed it aside, "seeing as how it seems you've had a bit of a miraculous recovery with that sudden onset of aches and pains, I'll go give Pete a call." The doctor paused to see if there were going to be any more objections. "All good?"

Neal shrugged. It was all he could manage.

"Okay," Andy smiled as he patted the kid on the back. "Hey cheer up, bud. It's what you've been waiting for. You get to go home..." Andy reconsidered, "Well, at least back to the Burkes. I'm sure Pete and El are planning on taking very good care of you."

Neal slunk down into the visitor chair and moaned. He was certain Peter was planning on taking VERY good care of him.


	3. Chapter 3

"You okay?"

Neal didn't bother with a verbal response this time. Peter had asked him the same question at least half a dozen times since leaving the hospital and they were only halfway back to Brooklyn…and, his answer hadn't changed since the first time he was asked. Neal figured he needed to get Peter's mind on something else so he opted for a change of subject that didn't have any connection to his recent mishap. "It feels a bit cool out. Do you think we're in for an early winter?"

Peter took his eyes of the road to examine his young charge with a concerned crease of his brow only a parent was entitled to. "You cold? Andy said your fever had passed. There's a blanket in the back, I can pull over and get it for you."

"What...? No." Neal shook his head and shifted his eyes forward, indicating that Peter should be looking that way too. "I'm not cold. I just meant the air had a bit of a chill in it this afternoon."

"It's not cold." Peter tapped the temperature read-out on the display screen. "It's 52 degrees...You sure you're okay? You want me to take you back and have Andy check you over again."

"No," Neal stated adamantly. "I'm not cold. I'm not hot. I'm fine. Okay?"

Peter looked over once more, not at all convinced. "El went a bit overboard upon hearing you were being given the all clear and cooked up a bit of a banquet to have when you get home. Maybe you'll feel a lot better after you get some real food into you. Three days of hospital meals are enough to make anyone sick."

_I'm not sick!_ Neal grumbled in his head. He wasn't hungry either. He'd totally lost his appetite but he didn't need Peter interrogating him on anything else so he went with, "Great."

# # #

Peter downed the last mouthful of wine and wiped his lips with a napkin before directing a question across the table to the younger man, "How you feeling?"

Neal put his own glass down while refraining from sighing. Peter had asked that question, no less than fifty times every day since he'd been allowed to leave the hospital. Well...it may have been only a couple of times a day, but it felt like a hell of a lot more. He mustered up his 'polite guest, not bringing any undue negative attention to himself,' voice. "Fine...thank you for asking," and tried not to sound too sarcastic.

"You think you're up to returning to work tomorrow?"

Neal's eyes lit up. He hadn't been expecting his ticket to freedom so soon even though he'd been silently begging for it with every waking hour. He'd been confined to the Burke's house for the better part of four days, excepting for a few short strolls around the block with Elizabeth and Satchmo. The nights were no less constricting with either Peter, or Elizabeth, sometimes both, poking their head in his room...every five minutes. Yes, it would be good to get his independence back and if Peter thought he was well enough to return to work, by default, he'd be well enough to return to June's. He had to force down his excitement as he responded. He didn't need Peter suspecting any ulterior motives. "Yeah...You know, I'm feeling pretty good again. Ready to jump back into it. Can't have Jones and Dianna thinking I've gone and found a better offer." Neal hoped that adding a joke might add to the sincerity of his case for being completely back up to speed.

"You sure, Sweetie?" El piped in from her end of the table. "Hughes has given you the rest of the week off if you need it."

"Nooo..." Neal chuckled. "That's just Agent Hughes way of keeping me out sight, out of mind for another couple of days. You know that man still cringes, every time we pass in the corridor."

"He does not," El admonished, and reached across the table and slapped the young man's hand playfully.

"Yes, he does," Peter deadpanned and went about stacking the dinner dishes into a neat pile.

Neal didn't need them all losing focus and forgetting how this subject came about so he cleared his throat and spoke confidently, "Back to your question, Peter. Yes, I'm ready to return to work tomorrow. Of course, I'll need to go back to June's to get my gear together, to get a suit." Neal was proud with himself for slipping that one in so causally. "I'm going to miss these delectable meals, Elizabeth, but I guess I have to go home sooner or later." _Sooner, hopefully._ As much as he wanted out, he wanted out of Peter's reach even more. At some point, Peter was going to make good on his promise and have that 'serious discussion'. When he'd first come back to the Burke's house, he had thought Peter was going to drag him up to the room and start wailing into him, right there and then. But it seemed Peter was waiting, waiting for him to be completely recovered from his ordeal, no doubt so he could fully appreciate the experience without the benefit of any pain-dulling meds he'd been issued on his departure from the hospital. And now that he'd just admitted to being fully recuperated, he needed to withdraw to safer territory...with haste. Neal pushed up from the table and gathered up some of the empty dishes, "I'll just help you clean up, Elizabeth, and then I might head off."

"Neal..."

There it was. That one syllable sound of doom.

Neal sunk back into his chair before his legs gave way. He'd been so close. So close to freedom. So close he could practically taste it and now... "Yes, Peter?"

Peter tilted his head with concern after watching the young man's sudden change in demeanour. "I was just going to say, leave the dishes. I'll fix them up after I drop you off at June's."

"Yeah?" Neal brightened instantly.

"Yes..." Peter's brow creased with suspicion. "What did you think I was going to say?"

"Nothing. No. I was just thinking that I should be helping to clean this up before I go."

"It's okay, Sweetie. You helped me get the dinner ready. Peter doesn't mind cleaning up."

Neal looked over to the kitchen. There really wasn't a lot left to do. Elizabeth was a neat cook and...could it really be that easy? Could he just grab his bag and head out the door? Peter would drop him off on the curb and they'd never speak of this unpleasant incident…ever again? "Okaaay...If you insist. I'll just go get my things."

"Neal..."

Neal, who'd been in the process of pushing up from the table, once more, slid back into his seat. "Yes, Elizabeth?" He tried to sound chipper and charming but, crap, it wasn't easy!

"Don't think you have to go back to June's tonight, just because you're well enough to go back to work. June sent over a clean suit and shirt along with your other outfits, just in case."

Good ole, June, Neal cursed, then cursed himself for putting the well-meaning elderly lady down, even if it was just in his head. "Oh, that was kind of her, but I still think I'll head back to my apartment and..." Neal tried to think of a justifiable reason, "and make sure Mozzie hasn't claimed squatter's rights." _Good enough?_

"Fair point," Peter found himself agreeing. "Mr Haversham was talking to me at the hospital about how he was thinking of upgrading to a river view."

"Well, there you have it," Neal pushed completely up from his chair and moved away from the table before any more road blocks were thrown across his path. "Time for me to go and reclaim my room. I'll just," he pointed to the stairs, "go get my things."

"Sure, Sweetie," Elizabeth replied with a smile before standing up and helping Peter with the dishes.

Neal glanced over his shoulder as he moved through the living area and breathed a sign of relief. He'd made it and it had been easy...In fact, almost too easy. Did Peter want him to go back to June's? Had that been his plan all along? Wait until he'd been well enough to go home to his apartment so he could trail him back. Had Peter planned it so Elizabeth couldn't come to the rescue once he started dishing out the mother of all hidings? Perhaps it wasn't a smart move going back to June's after all. June wouldn't hear anything from her bottom level - the old stone mansion had marble floors on the first two levels, meaning both soundproof and private. Neal could have a freshman college party in his apartment and June would be oblivious to it.

Neal stood at the bottom of the stairs, completely indecisive as to what he should do. It would be easy enough to go back in to the kitchen and tell them he was going to stay another night, but would that just give Peter an open opportunity to start wielding his deadly weapon. Neal closed his eyes and pressed his hand to his forehead. Should he stay or should he go? Which would be the less painful option?

"Neal...?"

Neal felt a warm, comforting hand come to rest on his upper arm and he opened his eyes and looked directly into Peter's.

"You okay, kiddo?"

_Aaahhh..._What should he say? How should he respond? If he said he wasn't fine, would Peter speed dial Doctor Bryant and the impossibly happy medic come tearing through the Burke's front door with his rubber gloves and bag of needles. On the other hand, if he confirmed there was nothing wrong, would that be the same as waving a large neon sign that read, 'Punish me now!'

"Neal," Peter asked with a hint of impatience, "What's wrong with you?"

"What do you mean, 'what's wrong with me'?"

"What I mean, Neal, is that ever since you've come out of hospital you've been acting all kinds of weirdness."

"Have not," Neal declared with conviction.

"Have too," Peter countered.

"Have what?" Elizabeth appeared on the scene and joined in the debate.

"Ever since Neal came out of hospital, he's been acting weird."

"Not true," Neal defended.

"Well, yes Sweetie," El patted the young man's arm, "Peter's correct-"

"What a shock."

"Neal," Peter admonished. "Cut it out."

"Fine," Neal pouted.

"Sweetie," El continued, "each time Peter has asked you how you feel, you've looked as though you've been trying to work out some impossible calculus equation."

"Maybe I'm just tired of Peter asking me every five seconds."

Peter huffed in exasperation, then grabbed the younger man by the back of his shirt and pulled him over to the couch.

"NO! Wait!" Neal called out in alarm.

Peter paused and turned back, "What?"

"Uhh.." Neal looked at both Burkes but came up empty.

Peter huffed once more then pulled the kid the rest of the way to the couch and shoved him down into the seat.

Neal looked up in surprise, and then complete relief before scooting further back into the security of the couch. El came and sat beside him and Peter took up a perch on the edge of the coffee table. Suddenly, Neal no longer felt all that secure!

Peter leaned in close. "Talk."

Neal looked first to El then back to Peter. He gave the agent a lazy shrug and smiled, "About anything in particular."

Peter pressed his lips together and fixed the younger man with a first class glare. "Last chance, Neal. The very next comment out of your mouth like that one is going to land you over my knee."

"Isn't that what's going to happen anyway," Neal grumbled.

"That's up to you, Neal," Peter stated then considered, "Is that what this is all about? You're worried that I'm going to punish you? Punish you for going after Navarro on your own?" Peter knew how his young partner's mind worked - Neal's overactive brain kept working overtime, when he figured he was guilty of something that would be deemed unacceptable behaviour. He'd keep over thinking it, working himself into a state, until Peter finally put his mind at ease by letting him off the hook or at times, not letting him off the hook and following through with a suitable consequence. This is obviously what had happened here. "Neal..."

"Well of course I am, Peter. I keep expecting you're going to..." Neal trailed off and gave an embarrassed sideways glance to Elizabeth... "to you know, do what you said you were going to do outside the building after you pulled me out."

"Huh?" Peter asked, genuinely confused and searched his memories for what might have been said. "What did I say?"

"You know," Neal stated adamantly.

"No, I don't," Peter stated, equally insistent.

"You said..." Neal looked guiltily at the floor, "that...that...I had just earned...a date with your strap," he finished quickly.

"Hey," Peter reached out and lifted the younger man's chin, till he had eye contact. "Firstly, you and I, this thing we have going," he pointed back and forth between the two of them, "it requires a trust that I would never betray...I would never say something like that in front of Clinton that I know would humiliate you-"

"But-"

"No, no buts," Peter talked over the interruption. "You had you're chance to talk, in fact, you had the past couple of days and you didn't say anything, so now it's my turn," he paused to see if the kid was going to interrupt again, but it seemed Neal did have some sense after all. "Now, having said that, when Clinton and I dragged you out of the building and you were lying there in a bloodied mess on the pavement, punishing you was the furthest thing from my mind. I dropped down onto my knees, as the adrenaline that had flooded my body turned my legs to jelly and I prayed, that you would make it through this. I didn't know if you were going to be okay or not but I prayed to all the angles that watched over foolish young men and protected them from their own self-inflicted troubles. Apart from yelling at Jones every five seconds and asking him, where the hell were the paramedics, I didn't say anything else."

El reached out and took Peter's hand in hers. She knew her husband had been through hell, the afternoon that he'd called her to the hospital, but listening to him recount his emotional experience, cut right through her heart.

Peter swallowed down the lump in his throat before continuing, "In any case, Neal, you were knocked unconscious when you fell into the pile of concrete rubble. Anything that you think you heard me say, was all up here." He reached across and tapped the young man's forehead.

"I'm sorry, Peter. I really am sorry for putting you through that."

"Are you sorry for going after Navarro on your own?"

"I didn't-"

"Don't," Peter shook his head vigorously, "No, you don't get to justify your actions through some pathetic loophole along the lines of, you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"But I was..."

"NO! You weren't. You weren't supposed to be anywhere near Navarro. I specifically ordered you NOT to go anywhere near Nathanial Navarro and you blatantly disobeyed me, didn't you?" When Neal remained silent, Peter took that as an affirmative. "So, back to my original question...Are you sorry for going after Navarro on your own?"

Neal swallow hard. "Yes, Peter. I am."

Peter leaned back and crossed his arms while he studied his young partner. It hadn't even entered his mind to punish the kid for his actions. Sure, when he first noticed Neal's tracking data took the kid past Navarro's deli, he'd been as infuriated as all hell and was ready to kick his butt, all the way into next year. But after pulling the prone body out of the rubble, and the subsequent days of recovery at the hospital, the only thoughts he had were for the kid's complete recovery, and that his well-meaning, if not recklessly impulsive young partner, would be okay.

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. Even though he hadn't given any thought to walloping the kid for his actions, obviously Neal had. In fact, in his head, it was already a foregone conclusion. He expected consistency from Peter. No, more than that. He needed consistency from the man he saw as his surrogate father and the security in knowing that if he disregarded the expectations placed on him, he was going to be pulled back into line. "Neal..."

"Ah," Neal knew what was coming from the way Peter spoke his name and began to fast-track a 'get of jail' plan... "I did the wrong thing, trying to investigate on my own and I understand all the grief-"

"Neal," Peter sighed as he pushed up onto his feet and indicated for the young man to follow. He didn't need to hear it, he'd heard it all before. "Let's go."

"But-" Neal's heart began to pound.

"No," Peter put the hand on the back of Neal's shoulder and directed him towards the stairs. "This has been put off long enough. Time for you to face the consequences for your actions."

"Elizabeth..."

Neal reached back hoping to tether to a life line but all he got was a sympathetic smile and some paltry advice, "Maybe next time, Sweetie, you can think before you act."

"I will, I-"

"Let's go, Neal," Peter commanded in a firmer tone and this time Neal knew he had very little choice but to follow.

Neal dragged his feet up the stairs and stopped at the first door while Peter stepped inside and over to the wardrobe. The older man opened the side panel, revealing some belts and ties on hooks on the inside of the door and at the back, one old, thick leather strap. Neal's stomach did a dive as he watched on while Peter unhooked it and folded it into his hand.

"You realise the last time I had to use this," Peter commented while he pushed the door closed, "also involved an incident with a Navarro. I'm hoping this is a pattern, Neal. There better not be a third time."

"No, sir," Neal mumbled. Not a chance. Besides, Christopher and Nathanial Navarro didn't have any other siblings... although they did have an uncle who was no doubt involved in some unscrupulous dealings on the lower east side... "I won't be going anywhere near a Navarro, ever again. You can count on that, Peter."

"Glad to hear that, Neal," Peter moved past and made his way down the hall. "Doesn't mean you're getting out of your punishment."

"But, Peeeeeter..." Neal did his best whiny teenager impersonation.

Peter wasn't fazed He pointed into the guest room, aka Neal's room, before walking in himself.

Neal released a great sigh, slumped his shoulders and trailed in begrudgingly. He had to stop himself from running straight back out again when the first thing he saw upon entering the room was Peter unravelling the folded strap. "Peter..."

"Neal...?'

Neal sighed again, "Doesn't matter."

Peter looked at him expectantly, until Neal took the cue and began unbuttoning his jeans. He kicked off his shoes and pulled his jeans completely off before folding them neatly and placing them on top of the chest of drawers. _Won't be needing these anytime soon_, he thought to himself. Then he turned back to face Peter.

He opened his mouth to make one final plea, but Peter spun him straight back towards the bed and shoved him forward. "Over."

Not willing to irritate Peter any further, Neal complied. He bent over, rested his forearms on the bed covers and squeezed his butt cheeks together in anticipation. He knew he should be grateful Peter allowed him to keep his boxer briefs on, but he also knew from experience, they wouldn't offer much in the way of cushioning.

_Thwack!_ He was right! The first whack stung like a lash of hot fire, straight through the cotton. _Thwack!_ The second, _Thwack!_ and third landed stings that hurt even worse than the first. _Thwack!_ Neal pushed up from the bed and whipped his hands back to the assaulted area. "Peeeeeter..." Neal pleaded while jumping up and down on the spot. "It's so much friggen worse than your belt. Can't that be enough already?"

"No," Peter stated simply and pointed to the bed with the strap. "Back down or it's boxers down."

Neal reluctantly turned back to the bed and bent over, with one last vigorous rub to his sore spots.

Peter wasted no time in pulling back his arm and delivering four more..._Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!..._all across the same target – the sensitive undercurve.

"Ow...Owww...OWWWW!" Neal cried out in a cracked voice as he reached a hand back to shield his sit-spots from any more. "I'm sorrrry Peeeter. Plllleeese."

"Four more, Neal. Take your hands away."

"Nooooo..." Neal shook his head.

"Suit yourself," Peter pulled back his arm and delivered four more as promised..._Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!..._ across the top of Neal's thighs where it stung the most.

"Aaaaahhhrr!" Neal cried out as he dropped forward onto the bed and began crying into the covers.

Peter tucked the strap under his arm and sat down on the bed, placing a comforting hand on the back of his young partner's shoulders. "I want you to remember those last four, Neal, because if you ever do anything so dangerously reckless again, I will whip you with this strap every night for a week. You understand?"

"Y-yes, s-sir," Neal sobbed with a hitched voice. "N-no more r-reckless be-haviour. I-I p-promise."

"Good," Peter patted the kid's back. "Now get some sleep. You're going to have a busy day at work tomorrow catching up on all the paper work you missed out on while you were out of action."

"Tmmwsowwm," Neal mumbled incoherently, his face still buried in the covers.

"What was that? Couldn't understand a word of it."

"Isdmtoosorww."

"Nup," Peter shook his head as he pushed up from the bed. "Still not sure what you said, but if it was anything along the lines of, 'Can you give me lots of paper work to do, because I want to sit all day tomorrow,' then, yes, no problem, Neal."

"ThatnotwhatIsaid!" Neal lifted his head so his words were more audible.

"That's what you said...? Yes, I know, I heard you," Peter chuckled.

Neal flipped over..."That's not what I said!"... and threw one of the small cushions off the bed at the older man.

Peter easily dodged it and flicked off the light. "Night, kiddo."

"Night, Peter...I really am sorry."

"I know. Sleep well."

_Fat chance of that!_ Neal grumbled in his head as he rolled back onto his stomach and gave his rear some tender rubbing.

# # #

_Ding...dong...ding...dong.._

"I'll get it!" Neal called out from half-way up the stairs. He doubled back and skipped down to the front door.

It had been two days since Peter and him had sorted things out and he'd enjoyed spending time with the Burkes, without the unpleasant guilt fuelled, impending doom feeling hanging over his head. When Elizabeth suggested he stay on until at least the weekend, he had agreed easily, if not eagerly.

_Ding...dong..._

"Coming!" Neal yelled out loud enough to be heard through the door as he reached out and turned the key before pulling the door open. "H-"

Before he finished his greeting, his eyes opened wide in fright and he immediately slammed the door shut, springing away from the doorway, back towards the stairs, like he still might be in some kind of serious danger.

"Who was it, kiddo?" Peter appeared and asked casually before noticing the startled expression his young partner was sporting. "What? What is it?"

"N-nothing." Neal shook his head and tried to school his features. "It was nothing? No one."

"What...? No one rang the door bell?"

"No...I mean yes. I mean no, it was someone, but they had the wrong address."

"They did, did they?" Peter squinted his eyes suspiciously.

"Yeah...I think they were…lost?"

_Ding...dong...ding...dong..._

Peter tilted his head, "Seems like they're still lost." He reached out for the door but Neal jumped in to block his path.

"Wait! You shouldn't just go and open the door without checking. It could be anyone."

_Ding...dong..._

Peter sighed deeply... "You volunteering to protect me Neal?"

Neal made out to be seriously considering the answer but he took too long. Peter yanked the obstruction out of the way and pulled open the door. It revealed a bemused Doctor Andrew Bryant.

"Hey, Andy," Peter extended his hand and welcomed his friend.

"G'd evnin, Pete," Andy returned the hand shake, as he stepped through the doorway. "Something smells good."

"Yeah," Peter nodded his head in the direction of the kitchen, "I believe El has made one of your mom's famous casseroles."

Andy's smile grew exponentially. "I thought that's what I could smell from outside and I was beginning to panic, I may have been 'uninvited' to dinner." He directed the last part at Neal.

Neal dropped his gaze to the floor and studied his feet.

"Sorry about that, Andy. Who knows what's going on kids' heads these days."

"Peeeeter!" Neal gave him a small, embarrassed shove.

"Don't worry about it, Peter," Andy chuckled. "My two never cease to pull some surprise out of their hats, when I least expect it."

"Yeah," Peter shrugged, "Still...apologies to Dr Bryant, please Neal, for shutting the door on him."

"Peeeeeter..." Neal whined in objection.

"Neeeeal..." Peter warned.

"Fine," Neal grumbled mostly to himself before raising his voice to be heard, "I apologise Dr Bryant for mistaking you for a home invader masquerading as a travelling salesman and for shutting the door quickly in order to protect the Burkes."

"Neal!" Peter admonished.

"Hey," Andy laughed as he stepped towards the kitchen, "don't worry about it. Besides, it so easy to mistake identity. Who knows, after I have a glass of wine I might accidently mistake Neal for a patient of mine due his flu booster shot...Could happen to anyone."

Neal's mouth dropped open, "W-wa."

Andy laughed, while moving towards the kitchen, "I'm just going to see if I can't steal a spoonful of that casserole. Don't think I can hold off till dinner."

Neal waited for the doctor to move out of sight before making a break for the stairs, but Peter blocked his path.

"Neal..." Peter put his hands on his hips and fixed the kid with a glare.

"What...?"

"You know what...Slamming the door on Andy."

"Well what can you expect," Neal offered defensively. "I didn't know he was coming over."

"His wife and kids are out of town for the week. El invited him over for dinner."

"How was I supposed to know that? Why didn't you tell me?"

Peter pressed his lips together and furrowed his brow, leaning down close and lowering his voice to a menacing level, "I didn't tell you cause I didn't want you freeeeaking out, and doing something stupid..."

Neal raised his eyes, in a 'why would you ever think that,' expression.

"Like slamming the door in his face!"

Neal slunk back, just a fraction. "I got a fright, okay."

"NO!" Peter pulled the kid forward again and reached back and swatted him hard, twice on his butt. "Not okay. Don't do it again. Clear?"

Neal reached back and rubbed. "Yes...sir..." He quickly stepped around Peter and onto the first step. "I was thinking of getting an early night. Would you mind telling Elizabeth I'm going to skip dinner."

Peter couldn't help a smile. "You can tell her if that's what your planning on doing."

Neal huffed, "Fine. I'll have dinner...But don't think I'm sitting next to the travelling salesman."

Peter shook his head. "Whatever." He started off towards the dining room but called over his shoulder, "Bring the 'salesman's' bag with you please."

Neal started after Peter but turned back to look for said bag, thinking Peter was pulling his leg. Unfortunately, he wasn't. Sitting on the floor, right where Andy had come through the door, was a small, black leather carry case, not unlike one a house-call doctor might use. Neal's eyes widened in horror and he was about to shout out after Peter but at the last minute he changed his mind and darted up the stairs to the sanctuary of his room. Given the two choices, he would rather take his chance with Elizabeth!

# # # # # # # #

Author's Note: If you enjoyed this fic, please drop in and take a look at our White Collar Corrections site - white collar corrections dot weebly dot com (no spaces)

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